


Red Soldier; Green Conscience

by nakajimagardenar



Category: Green Lantern: The Animated Series
Genre: F/M, Fluff, I NEVER FINISHED THESE BUT TAKE THEM ANYWAY, Razaya Week 2015, WHY DO SUCH GOOD SERIES DIE YOUNG, drabble prompts
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-02-12
Updated: 2016-02-12
Packaged: 2018-05-19 22:09:54
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 2,849
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5982433
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/nakajimagardenar/pseuds/nakajimagardenar
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>A(n unfinished) collection of RazAya drabbles from tumblr's RazAya Week 2015. ❤</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Repairs

**Author's Note:**

> THEY DESERVED SO MUCH BETTER !!

She was warm.

He would have found it surprising, if he wasn’t already used to it - She was an artificial intelligence, a machine; she should have been cold to the touch, if not cold in every other aspect. Any yet she was hot, not quite burning on the surface but almost certainly burning within, with that sliver of life that came from whatever something or another dwelled inside the Green Lantern’s Central Battery.

“You are running a little hot,”

The (former) Red Lantern murmured his observations against the soft slope of Aya’s neck, words muffled against the juncture of her throat and collarbone. “Do you want to stop?” His tone was almost teasing (or as teasing as someone like Razer could manage to be), his fingers dancing gently along the curve of her back, coming to rest feather-light against her hip. There’s the briefest of pauses as Aya considers his words, small hands finding their way to Razer’s chest, fingers grasping almost tentatively at the smooth material of his armor.

“No, I do not. My systems are only operating slightly above normal, and thus my heightened temperature is as to be expected, so - ” She paused, shuttering her eyes in a thoughtfully slow and decidedly drawn out fashion, before continuing - “So, please do not stop.” Her own hands mimic that of Razer’s own migration, fluttering down to his hips, her back arching ever so slightly as she tilted her head back, leaning forward and catching his lips with her own. The kiss was anything if not almost desperate, gentle despite the neediness so carefully conveyed in the intimate action.

The soft, barely audible hum of her infinitesimally small mechanical parts, and the soft drowsy glow of her lantern green biolights was something ultimately alien but unshakably familiar to Razer, his hands (hands that have killed before, and hands that will probably kill again, despite his better intentions) finding their way from the generous swell of her hips to curl around her chin, tilting her head back so he could move his lips to the corner of her mouth, peppering almost too light kisses against emerald skin. Beside them, the sharp ping of the Interceptor’s communications array rouse them from their secret tender moment, and it takes all of Razer’s willpower to pull away from Aya, pressing the back of his hand against his mouth, even as Aya’s fingers found their way to her lips.

“I know this is suppose to be your off duty time right now Razer - ” The familiar sound of Hal Jordan’s voice is not entirely unpleasant to hear, but at the same time it caused something akin to a sneer to tug at the corner of his lips - Leave it to Hall to (once again) chose the most inopportune of times to call. “But we could use your help with something.” The Red paused, glancing over his shoulder - Aya was, predictably, still frozen on the spot, fingertips brushing against her bottom lip, luminous eyes glazed over as though lost deep in her thoughts. “Aya,” He offers her a smile - It’s tiny, hardly enough to constitute as a real expression, but Aya does not fail to see it, does not fail to catch the significance, “I have to go help Jordan with something, but - I will be back shortly. So, wait for me, and I will come back for you.”

She might not have been Ilyana - And that was good, that was good. She was not Ilyana, despite her face, despite their shared pain - And that was good, because that was the same reason someone like her could begin to repair him.


	2. Calculation

In hindsight, she should have seen it coming.

Razer was unpredictable, in a kind of way that rendered him predictable to almost everyone who spent enough time with him, Aya included; not simply because she was who she was (some amalgam of high class artificial intelligence born from Guardian ambitions and a sliver of some god-esque entity living within Oa’s Central Batter), but because in their time together, she had come to recognize his seemingly moodish and decidedly self destructive tendencies for what they were - A cry for help (not that he would ever admit to such a shamefully weak thing, mind you). It was in that way that he was like some sort of young, adolescent - Hal often used the term teenager, something that seemed to grate on the ex Red Lantern’s sensibilities (he had been married once, you know, so he was no longer some child to be coddled thank you very much) - Though Aya herself had never considered him as anything less than an equal (she was a child herself, but also, she wasn’t).

He was moody, prone to brooding and lashing out at people when they expressed any form of concern over his well being, and yet seemed completely unaware of how he would project his worries in the physical plane, shoulders slumped low and often found laying haphazardly on one of the Interceptor’s chairs - Actions that almost never failed to attract not only her attention, but Hal’s as well (and on occasion, Kilowog), an antithesis to his claims that he did not need any help, did not want any help. She wondered if he was aware of this, before dismissing such thoughts as something to dissect in private at a later date, turning her attentions back to the slumped form of Razer, all but sprawled out on the gentle slope of the ship’s console. Next to him, Kilowog’s usual station was curiously devoid of its inhabitant, both Green Lanterns having decided to investigate an errant energy signature (Aya herself had assisted the Lanterns as best as she could, outfitting them with both information and supplies before seeing them off, busy busy little NavCom doing her best to be a credit to the team, Razer sulking in the shadows).

“…..”

She calculated to find the exact amount of effort she would require to reach out and place a hand on Razer’s shoulder, calculated how much distance there would be to cross to lessen the space between them. An error, sensors indicating the answer to her queries was simple, straightforward; and yet something inside her that seemed arguably at odds with her programming insisted that those were things immeasurable, almost impossible to overcome the way things were between them now. And yet, perhaps with the same innocent stubbornness with which she insisted on developing a physical body of sorts, still she pressed forward, turning in her seat to face the other, a hand raised and poised to take hold of the Red’s shoulder. “Razer, ” His name was barely out of her lips, fingertips pressed gently against his armor, “Why are you - ”

Her question was cut short however, when Razer turned to face her, the action so abrupt it caused her to lose her tentative hold on him - But he reaches out, hands grasping her own, fingers laced and palm to palm, and she’s caught almost entirely by surprise when he smiles at her (a smile, an actual smile, and not the kind full of contempt and sarcasm Razer’s smiles were usually made of). “It took you long enough,” He murmured, averting his eyes only once before turning to look back at Aya’s startlingly bright blues, “I was beginning to feel dejected you haven’t paid any attention to me all day.” The ex Red leans forward, eyes fluttering close just before his lips press gently against hers, the contact achingly light and lasting just long enough for Aya’s breathing to hitch, before he’s pulling away and turning back to his station, a shallow smirk at the corner of his mouth.

This was certainly not an outcome she had calculated (or even dreamed of, even if machines did not dream) - But she found that she could not complain. Besides, if she calculated the correct and logical outcome of everything she and everyone else ever did, then things would have become far less interesting, and what good is a world that only ran on cold unfeeling logic anyway?


	3. Sensation

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Takes place some time after the series, featuring a still alive Aya and minor applications of Blue Lantern!Razer, with passing mention of what could have been the Darkest Night Arc.

The concept of sensation was not one easily explained, Aya believed.

It was something that had to be experienced, something that could not be explained in simple words or half hearted actions; sensation was something that had to be felt firsthand, something or another that was to be discovered by one’s own trial and error.

Her first experience with sensation had been anything but passionate; clinical and devoid of any real satisfaction one might take away from a fresh feeling. Sensation had been born from the necessity of possessing a body, if only to prove a counterargument to Kilowog’s insistence she could not be a Green Lantern, because Lanterns needed a body with which to actually be one with their rings. The smooth, slightly cool feeling of the porcelain tabletop greeted her small feet with a rush of data input and obligatory information (this is the dining table; one should not stand so carelessly where the others eat), coupled with the disbelieving looks of surprise from her companions.

After that, she experienced sensations in regular intervals - The rush of hard, dirt ground coming up to meet her when Razer pushed her down to her hands and knees following their stint into the catacombs of Betrassus in search of the Green Lantern Doluk (she had expressed something very close to annoyance, despite her frail grasp on the notion of emotions at the time), the feeling of the Interceptor’s cold unyielding metal floor under her motionless form when Drusa’s device had disrupted her autonomous thought process (followed later on by the warmth and surprisingly firm sensation of Razer’s body against hers when she next regained her senses).

There too was the blinding agonizing discomfort of being torn apart by the leader of the Red Lanterns (most unpleasant, she would not want to experience that again, if possible), and even the lightest of touches afforded to the Interceptor’s hull and interiors by her travelling companions (though that perhaps was not so much a physical sensation as it was a form of data relay) counted as all too intimate sensations in their own right; from the pitter patter of light steps (though some were decidedly less graceful) to the hard taps and pointed tugs against her interface’s controls.

And then, after all that and more, she had fallen in love.

And then, after that, she had her heart broken.

That was by far the most painful of sensations she had yet to experience (or had ever experienced, looking back at the event some time later, after the threat of the Man Hunters and some shadowy Lantern Corps devoid of colour or emotion had been dealt with), and not one she would ever like to encounter again. Though, she doubted if that would ever come to pass, not when she looked at the Blue Lantern who had found her again (he’d come back for her, he would always come back for her), their fingers laced together, his thigh touching hers and the side of his head resting comfortably against her cheek. This was yet another new sensation, another foreign sensory overload she wanted more than anything to feel for as long as she could -

How long had it been like this, she wondered absently, though the answer to that train of thought was no more important than the passing of time around them, something she now too could feel with such astounding clarity.

Even now, after all this time, after all her experiences and everything she had been through, she did not doubt there was more for her to experience still, countless sensations and a fathomless amount of possibilities just waiting to happen. And that was all well and good, all things considered, because this time, she wouldn’t have to experience them alone anymore.


	4. Mutual

The feeling was mutual, apparently.

It was something they tended to dance around, gazes averted and contact kept to a bare minimum (though that did not seem to impede the occasional lingering touch Razer sometimes afforded the walls of the Interceptor, something that seemed innocuous at best but was in truth something far more intimate) - It was a ritual of sorts, something to be strictly observed and never spoken out loud, a silent agreement neither party quite remembered agreeing to. Not that their self imposed limitations (some would call it masochistic) were ever a source of conflict - Internal drama perhaps, endless moping and awkward stretches of silence, but it had never evolved into anything more than an inconvenience, never became something that needed to entice rousing action.

At least, that had been the case, up until a few days ago; after yet another sojourn that involved the usual careless bravado of one Hal Jordan and the exasperated but ultimately futile retorts of his accompanying sergeant (though this time, they had the added bonus of a Blue Lantern in their company, to make things a little bit more of the usual chaos), the odd pair found themselves at a standstill, Aya’s small hand raised and suspended in midair even as she stared intently at Razer, blue green eyes shuttering heavily, and Razer couldn’t help but stare at those long, delicate lashes. “Razer,” It was Aya’s voice that stole the Volkregian’s attentions from her face (so familiar, but also not, like a memory of a dream of a memory) - Or rather, he simply found himself staring at her lips now, rather than her eyes.

“…Yes, Aya?”

He felt particularly proud of himself at that moment, voice level and the very essence of detached calm, despite his distracted thoughts. “My sensors indicate a slight elevation in your blood pressure, and your pulse has sped up considerably in these last few minutes. Are you ill?” Of course. No sooner had he allowed himself to feel some small satisfaction at his verbal deception had Aya proven yet again that she could not be fooled, at least not with such flimsy words and a weak control. “I’m fine,” His words were hissed through clenched teeth, though there was no real heat in his words, no real venom in his gaze - A gaze he somehow managed to tear away from the AI’s lips, locking onto her slender fingers instead.

Despite her inquiries, she had not bothered to lower her hand, still so dangerously (so very very dangerously) close to Razer’s face, the quiet humming he had come to associate with her skin a near silent reminder of the distance (or lack of) between them. “…..” He considered his words thoughtfully, carefully running them over in his mind as he ran a hand over his head, his fingers momentarily tangling in the troublesome protrusions his Red Lantern uniform afforded him at the top of his head (rabbit ears, Jordan had once called them, whatever the hell those were; Razer suspected he did not care to know. Kilowog had argued they were more like some manner of antenna, and Saint Walker had called them cute). He almost missed the way Aya’s shoulders tensed, the way her artificial breathing hitched in her chest - Was she looking at those things (again)…?

It was only slightly mortifying, coming to the realization that Aya was indeed staring at his helm, and before he could properly react to this information (and he suspected Aya had not either, despite her claims to the contrary) her hand had begun to move again, reaching out to place gentle fingers against the tip of those damned things, fingertips slipping down low along its curve to rest delicately against the top of his head.

“…A - ”

Hold on, he needed a moment.

“…Aya - ”

The moment comes crashing down on them at the sound of Razer’s voice, the AI’s luminous eyes widening almost comically even as she snatched her hand away - Or tried to, anyway, the former Red catching hold of her wrist before she could fully pull away. He looked for a moment like he wanted to say something, lips slightly parted, but he seemed to think better of it, pulling her closer towards him instead, leaning forward and -

There was no longer any real point in denying that he was wanted to kiss her; that he was going to kiss her, not anymore - But it became increasingly obvious that they did not have the same common interests in mind, Aya’s hand rising once again and finding their prized mark once more - The top of his head. Or rather (much to his chagrin), they found their way back to the base of his (in hindsight) ridiculous horn-like helm, red a sharp contrast to her emerald coloured skin.

As it stood, they were mutually interested in exploring the other, though perhaps Razer was more interested in remembering what it felt to kiss someone, whereas Aya seemed impossibly captivated by all the simple little things about Razer he hardly ever gave thought to. But that was okay, because they could probably (would probably) find some kind of middle ground. In the meantime, Razer would just have to suffer through Aya’s seemingly insatiable fondness for those ridiculous things on top of his his head.

**Author's Note:**

> http://muffetsofficial.tumblr.com/


End file.
